


Havemercy

by Schemilix



Series: Blood and Gold [13]
Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schemilix/pseuds/Schemilix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loffrey isn't sure what quirk of irony led himself to name a greatsword 'Havemercy', but the joke has long since stopped amusing him. Then again, everything has stopped amusing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Havemercy

Perhaps as a test of will, perhaps only from a spike of innate cruelty, Vormav has handed the ‘responsibility’ to Loffrey. The ex-priest, the yet-priest. The man excommunicated for his skills with a blade in a time where such ‘god-swords’ were lacking. An inconvenience to the Church, but a follower still in ways. 

Maybe it is only his loyalty that Vormav wishes to call into question.

Loffrey runs his hand along the blue-tinted tang of his sword, thinking. His rationale claims that there is no remaining feeling for the Church or its acolytes. 

And yet - doubt gnaws. A doubt seeded in a puberty full of too many questions for a seeking mind to answer; getting lost; finding again. Now, again, he has wandered from the path, but still he sees it. Maybe his foolish hume heart has hope of finding it again, that simple faith, that will to rights. In his heart, Loffrey is still a priest - soft-spoken, bookish, and fierce in the protection of his flock (and now his brothers-in-arms) from outsiders and their own folly alike. 

It is not doubt that he might deny orders. Only doubt about what such an action will have him become.

Some might call him craven, that he fears Tengille, that he does as wished because he is a man of the military and does not question orders.

It is simpler than that. Funebris will die because, and only because, Vormav asked.

\---

He pulls his sword from its sheath and the sound rings of thunder. It echoes from the walls and the solemn glass like the voice of a God. Like judgement, conviction, cataclysm.

The carpet muffles his footsteps. Funebris’ hand is held up towards him, not with a finger of divine fury but the outspread fingers of an old man begging. And he does beg, knelt, swamped by the robes of office. He is Hume, a vessel for the will of the Church as much as Loffrey is a vessel for the daemon Ralseph.

He lifts the sword with supernatural ease, and while Funebris pleads he spears him with the blade named Havemercy. It pierces his body and the stone with a crack and a wet retort. Funebris slumps like a sack, sliding down.

As he impales the man he once regarded like a father of men, Loffrey is surprised by what he feels.

Nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> This thing is a mess of headcanon, I do apologise.


End file.
